A Minor Miscalculation
by SbenLives
Summary: Nui Harime gets the wrong address, and from then on, nothing is the same.
1. Changes

**A/N:** To everyone waiting for the next update to my _Saw _story, "Game, Set, Match", I give my sincerest apologies. Personal things have gotten in the way of keeping to my schedule, and writer's block is now tormenting me during the half-finished next chapter. Please continue to be patient in regards to the story, and enjoy this new one!

* * *

><p>For seventeen years, the man formerly known as Soichiro Kiryuin had been planning.<p>

Leaving his wife with their supposedly dead daughter had been the greatest risk he'd ever taken, but it had been worth it in the long run. He'd drafted, he'd welded, and he'd stitched as though his life depended on it – which, he supposed, it did. He'd recruited innumerable men and women to his cause, establishing hidden operations large enough to challenge REVOCS. He'd even, to his genuine regret, allowed himself to be distanced from his daughter for the benefit of them both. Today, he would bring about the culmination of what had swiftly become his life's work, and he would hopefully live to see his ultimate goal followed through.

Smiling beneath his matted beard, Soichiro – now going by Isshin Matoi – picked up a folded black sailor uniform and carried it over to the hanger he'd prepared. The eye design on its scarf seemed to follow his own eyes as he walked, but with the amount of time since its last experimental feeding, he couldn't be sure. Whatever the case, it was critical that the uniform be in mint condition, free of any noticeable wrinkles or tears; such weaknesses would be detrimental to the war effort. It took him a grand total of fifteen minutes before he was completely satisfied in its condition, and he stepped back, admiring his work.

… _In retrospect, _he thought, _it might have been wise to sew more fabric around the midriff area._

The thought sent a strange mixture of amusement and horror through his aging system. Nudist Beach was made up almost entirely of chiseled young men in revealing combat gear, in particular his eternally luminescent lieutenant Aikuro Mikisugi. The Kamui was risqué now, so the idea of his seventeen-year-old daughter entering its transformed state around these men – around _Aikuro _– was more than enough to send him into a minor nervous fit. He'd have to devise a plan for that after today's events were finished.

Blocking the perverted possibilities from his mind, Isshin lumbered back to his workspace and lifted the gargantuan Rending Scissors to bear. As always, the screw was tight enough to keep opening and closing smooth without running the risk of the blades locking into place, and the edges were as sharpened as the day they'd been forged. He couldn't check the fantastically complicated inner workings without disassembling the whole thing, but he was confident enough in his craftsmanship to proceed as planned.

The Kamui and the Scissors were ready to go, but something still weighed on his mind.

Seventeen years of preparation had not solely been dedicated to offensive strategies and specialized equipment. He'd witnessed firsthand that his wife was inhumanly ruthless, and several attempts on his life had narrowly been escaped during that shaky period where he'd only had a ridiculous disguise and a helpless infant to his name. If he knew Ragyo, now would be an optimal time for a vicious strike. He only hoped that Ragyo didn't know _him _well enough to anticipate the elaborate ruse he'd lain down to secure the future of Nudist Beach. If the scheme worked, he was home free to wage war against REVOCS. If it didn't, the Nudists would hopefully deign to put on some respectable attire for his burial.

He silently prayed for the former, went upstairs, sat down by the sparking fire, and waited.

_What if Ryuko didn't receive my message?_ He shivered in spite of the heat. _What if seventeen years of work is all for naught because some postman failed to do his job properly?_

There was still Satsuki to rely on, he reminded himself. The rebellion he'd prepared his elder daughter for would be most effective if backed by Ryuko and the Nudist Beach effort, but he'd given her enough knowledge to ensure that there could still be incalculable damage to REVOCS. From what he could glean of her situation through Aikuro's monitoring, Satsuki was putting up quite the masterful ruse to fool Ragyo, and she'd trained hard enough to potentially kill the aforementioned monster if – nay, when – the need arose.

Not that he was prepared to tell any of this to Aikuro or the rest of the Nudists. As far as they were concerned, his daughter had fallen to Ragyo's manipulations and was now a sadistic tyrant whom had to be carefully watched. If there were any moles in Nudist Beach, and he had little doubt that there were, Satsuki's plan was entirely safe and secure. As an added barrier of security, Satsuki also had no way of knowing that there was an effort with Ryuko, or in fact that Ryuko was even still alive. She would be forced to put forth her maximum strength, every ounce of which was needed to challenge REVOCS.

Isshin briefly ceased his pondering to check the security camera feeds around his home. So far as he could tell, there were no assassins creeping down the halls, and no gun-toting men about to kick his doors and windows in. Everything seemed in order.

Everything except for the figure standing on his doorstep, bathed in the shadows of the setting sun.

Isshin crept forward and waited, ready to lunge with all of his strength. If this were what he thought, then it would be the defining moment of every plan he had brought to fruition. He considered himself fairly strong, maybe even capable of taking on one or two armed men, but the other tricks Ragyo might have up her –

"Dad? Hello?"

Isshin leapt forward and pulled open the doors with all of the theatrical gusto he could muster up.

When he'd last lain eyes on Ryuko, she had been a thin, sobbing ten-year-old on her way to boarding school. Now she was almost as tall as him, and he could tell from her frame and the way she stood that she was strong enough to do serious damage to anything she disliked. Isshin tried not to think about the coldness in her eyes, and everything that must have gone wrong in her life to warrant her strength.

Ryuko looked surprised when he lurched up to her and wrapped her in a tight, caring embrace. "Whoa… Dad? What's this about?"

It took Isshin several seconds to remind himself of the tasks at hand, and what felt like hours before he could rip himself away from the daughter he'd given up everything for. "My little Ryuko… It's been far too long. There's so much that I need to discuss with you."

"Hang on, 'my little Ryuko'?" Ryuko propped herself against the doorframe, forcing Isshin to take a backward step. "When I was still living with you, you couldn't be bothered to feed me half the time. I practically lived in my schools, and whenever I came home, I came with black eyes and broken teeth. Why are you pretending to give a crap about me now?"

Even though he'd expected it, Isshin still had to purse his lips and bite them to keep the paternal sting at bay. "I won't pretend that I was a fantastic father, Ryuko, but I think you're exaggerating the past just a-"

He was cut short when Ryuko returned his embrace.

It lasted less than ten seconds before she withdrew, and when Isshin stared at his daughter's face in confusion, he found it twisted into an unreadable mix of emotions. "It's almost been a decade, Dad," she whispered. Isshin thought he saw a tear in her eye, but it was blinked away before he could be certain. "Don't expect me to make much sense for a while."

Isshin nodded slowly, and as he did, he noticed something that should have been obvious from the start. "The stripe in your hair. Has it brightened since we last spoke?"

Confused at the sudden subject change, Ryuko lifted a hand to her crimson hair stripe, which stood out in the faint sunlight. "Um… I haven't dyed it recently, so I don't know what you mean. Haven't had the money for those kinds of luxuries."

"Ryuko, do you remember ever actually dying your hair that color?"

Following a silent moment of reflection, an even stronger wave of confusion passed over Ryuko's face. "No, but don't we have more important things to cover right now? For instance, why you left me for so long and called me back out of nowhere?"

_As I thought. Her infused Life Fibers are starting to bloom and mature. Hopefully you enjoy the results of your work, Ragyo, while you watch her tear you limb from limb._

"We'll get around that eventually, Ryuko." Isshin stepped back, allowing Ryuko through the doorway. "Right now, we have to talk about quite a few important subjects… and meet quite a few people."

* * *

><p>Mako Mankanshoku skipped cheerfully down the grimy alleys that led to her home, humming a confusing tune about Hell that she'd heard from one of the Club Presidents. Today, nothing whatsoever could dampen her spirits. It was absurdly difficult to do that on most days, but this day was especially special.<p>

She wondered, in between random interludes about the various things that caught her eye on the journey home, what her parents would be doing this year. Since this was an especially special day even compared to the other special days, they would probably go all-out to make her happy. She didn't ever have the heart to tell them that she would be content with a plate of buns and a gift of a single yen, as long as everyone was present to enjoy the day with her.

Not that expensive gifts and food hurt the celebration.

She'd caught Mataro eyeing an antique television set that was always on display nearby, so it was likely that he'd be stealing it for her at some point in the day. Half of the fun of the celebrations was hunkering down together to hide from angry, gun-toting shopkeepers out for whatever her best present turned out to be. Knowing Mataro, he might also just steal and present the cables from the set. That would be fine, too. In that case, the shopkeeper would only come out with a knife or ancient sword.

Her mother would also be spending the day baking some kind of cake, which in every case so far had turned out to be an amalgamation of buns and discarded One-Star leftovers. She always devoured the end product and enjoyed every bite of it. Still, she'd always wanted to try some of the food from Osaka, which she'd heard was divine. She'd ask for that on her seventeenth birthday if it didn't slip her mind again.

What her father was doing was always a surprise. Last year, he'd given her a slightly polished human skull that he said he'd conveniently found in his operating room. She'd lost the skull to a bunch of robbers the next day, but she always had the memory. And the year before that, she'd come home to a crayon-scribbled permit that allowed her to take the family truck out for a day; in the messy aftermath, she'd gained the valuable life knowledge that angry mobs were even more fun to outrun than lone shopkeepers.

Finally, after hours of skipping, humming, and loudly relaying exposition to herself, Mako rounded the corner to her family's doorstep and barreled through in seconds. "Mom! Dad! Mataro! Guts! Everyone guess how old I am!"

She was greeted with unfamiliar silence.

Her mother lay flat against the back wall, pale as a ghost, cradling a cut across her midsection that was dripping all over the floor. The wall was bent against her weight, making her look like someone as strong as Gamagoori had thrown her from the doorway. She didn't react at all when Mako pitched forward in surprise.

Across the room, her father lay on his back, crushing something that looked like the smoldering remains of a television set. Something about him was different, but Mako's mind was slowing down, and she couldn't put her finger on it. She realized without truly understanding that her finger _was _on it; the cold, pudgy object her hand had landed on was the bit of her father that went in the ragged space between his shoulders.

Mako's lips moved, but for once in her life, no words came out.

A sharp cracking noise resonated from the bedroom, accompanied by Mataro's panicked voice screaming something that she could not make out. Blocking out the scene in the main room, Mako rushed through the flimsy door, reducing it to splinters and not giving any thought to the pain of the splinters.

Mataro was curled in the corner, eyes twitching between her and another figure in the center of the room. Guts lay beside him, his head bent at an angle Mako thought to be impossible.

The figure Mako didn't recognize was a very young girl with a surreally wide smile. Her enormous blonde pigtails and frilly pink dress were both stained a bloody crimson, not that she seemed to mind. In her slender, elaborately manicured fingers, the girl was stretching a tape measure, which was lined with gleaming razor blades and coated yet more blood.

"Hiiii!" The girl waved cheerfully with her free hand. "I was just asking your family where I could find Soichiro Kiryuin! I already know he's been visiting this house, but…" She paused to tilt her head with such alarming smoothness that it seemed to detach. "Your mama and papa made things harder and kept lying! Do _you_ know where he is, birthday girl?"

In the next second, the girl moved, and in a split second she was holding Mataro with the tape measure to his throat. "Come on, just tell me! You're too cute to join the rest of your family!" One of her hands lifted, and Mako felt it somehow brushing through her hair. She was too shocked to recoil at the touch.

Mataro grunted and started to cry.

The girl moved the tape measure nearer to his skin, smiling all the way.

Then Mako took a step forward, and everything blurred.


	2. New Friends

Ryuko followed Isshin through the claustrophobic halls leading to the mansion's basement, shivering imperceptibly every so often. As a very young child, when she'd still maintained some connection with her father and enjoyed his presence, he had occasionally taken her down here to prod her with needles, jot things down on a clipboard, and ask her strange, half-remembered questions. This had always been her least favorite part of the mansion, and not simply because she had no idea what he was doing beyond his mutters of "research".

And certainly not simply because she had a fear of needles, which was a completely unsubstantiated rumor that had never caused any embarrassing incidents during school flu shot season. Anyone who insisted to the contrary would be forced to swallow his or her own teeth.

Again she shivered. It was just that something about the basement had always felt… _off_, like a stranger in the background of a cherished family photograph. In spite of her repeated visits, she never remembered exactly what the room down there looked like. She'd tossed around the idea that she was blocking out the room due to some horrible childhood trauma, but that idea had quickly been thrown out. Her father might be a neglectful bastard and a bit of a freak in regards to his work, but he wasn't… anything else. That left a complete blank space in her head as to why a _room _was still freaking her out, even after all of her years of genuine physical suffering at the hands of very real people.

At last, they halted at a stainless steel door. Ryuko had been so focused on the thought of the room ahead that she'd barely noticed the halls they'd traveled through. She couldn't recall ever walking through metal hallways lined with security cameras, but that might just have been the same memory problems.

"Here we are, Ryuko." Isshin pulled the door open and hobbled inside. "Please be quick about coming in, and shut the door behind you. The temperature and air pressure in this room have to be carefully maintained until we can make sure that everything's in order."

Ryuko stepped cautiously forward, unsure of what to expect. The room ahead was enormous, almost comparable to a cathedral, and lined from floor to ceiling with objects of an incomprehensibly scientific nature. If her father was planning on explaining his mysterious reason for calling her back, she doubted that she would understand half of it.

Before she'd even entered the room completely, Ryuko felt a peculiar stirring in her heart. She felt it literally before her mind could even process the metaphorical meaning; it felt like there were insects crawling all over her heart, leaving faint trails of fibrous hair, coming close but never quite jabbing or biting her. Startled by the discomfort, Ryuko collapsed to one knee and gritted her teeth.

_Easy. You've been through worse._

Isshin turned and looked her over, but he didn't rush to her aid like any other father would. Instead, he tilted his head quizzically and stroked a strand of his beard. It almost looked like he'd fully expected this to happen. "Are you all right, Ryuko?"

"Fine," she managed to say. "What the hell do you have down here, Dad?"

Rather than answer, he finally made his way back to her and helped her to her feet. The sensation was still there, but it was almost numbing now. Shaking it off, Ryuko pushed past her father and fully entered the room ahead.

The first thing to catch her eye was a cluster of crimson sparkles on a corner table. On closer inspection, she was able to ascertain that the sparkles were reflections of light off an elaborate red structure. Further inspection revealed, to her great confusion, that she was staring at an enormous pair of scissors, seemingly crafted from smooth metal.

"Yes, yes, we'll get to those in a moment." Isshin hobbled up to her, having noticed where she was looking. "Those are of great importance, but our first order of business is introducing you to the person who's been waiting for many years to see you in the flesh."

Since she was getting more and more confused by the minute, Ryuko didn't put up any resistance as she was practically dragged over to a far wall lined with various tools. A dark shape was hanging up on the wall, and when her father turned on the desk lamp to illuminate it, Ryuko's mind drew its largest blank yet.

She was staring at a grayish-black sailor uniform with a red scarf. The uniform consisted of a blouse and a skirt, connected to each other by thin straps of fabric that looked like they were already stretched to the breaking point. This left a sizable space where the wearer's midriff would be completely exposed, making it look more like the outfit of a stripper than a respectable school uniform.

"Go ahead and try it on."

Ryuko eyed her father, growing wary and suspicious. "Okay, Dad, what are you getting me into?"

"Just try it on," he urged. "I worked for almost fifteen years on it. Once you have it on, you'll understand."

Against her better judgment, Ryuko obliged, pulling the uniform off of its hook and sizing it up against herself. Isshin politely turned around while she stripped down to her bra and panties, upon which she was instantly aware of just how cold the room truly was. She forced herself to withstand it and slid the skirt on, then pulled the blouse over her head and buckled the two sections together.

For an instant that passed by like lightning, the scuttling sensation returned to Ryuko's heart in force, but it quickly died down to nothing. With her faculties clear, she was aware both of how tight the uniform was, and of how much skin she was showing by wearing. People would call her an exhibitionist if she walked out onto the street wearing this, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to argue with them.

"How do you feel?" Isshin asked. The fatherly affection that had filled his voice earlier was almost invisible now, replaced by calm scientific curiosity.

"I feel like I'm about to pose for a hentai sketch artist." Ryuko tugged at the bit of fabric that narrowly covered up the underside of her breasts, praying that this was the kind of clothing that wouldn't shrink in the wash. "Now, can you actually tell me why I'm here, instead of stuffing me into your fetish gear with barely a word?"

In response, Isshin drew a sewing needle from his coat pocket, walked up to her, and pricked her finger with it before she could react.

"Son of a bitch!" Ryuko bit her tongue while trying to grit her teeth, and blood flowed from both of her wounds. She instinctively wiped her finger off on her skirt, leaving a minuscule blood trail. "Why the hell did you do-"

She stopped talking, aware of a bizarre sensation where she'd wiped off the blood. The fabric of the skirt was warming up, quivering, almost pulsating like a heart. She felt stitches ruffling as the warmth spread; it felt like she was getting groped by a thousand tiny perverts at once, but she was helpless to freak out or fight back. The feeling spread up to the rest of the uniform and all the way to the scarf, which, to a level of shock and awe that Ryuko couldn't have summoned up anywhere else, burst open like an awakening eye.

"Salutations, Ryuko," a deep voice offered from out of nowhere.

The numerous awkward sensations subsided, and Ryuko collapsed, panting and sweating. Whatever had just happened, she wanted no part in further activities. She worked her hand under the top and attempted to force it off of her, but it was stuck fast to her skin.

"Am I hurting you, Ryuko? If so, I offer my sincerest apologies. I'm still not used to your body, and I cannot yet detect your pain."

This time, Ryuko comprehended and acknowledged the voice, though her own was shaking and raspy with anxiety. "Wh-Who else is there?! Are you the one Dad brought me down here for?"

The voice chuckled. "I'm right here, clinging to your body, Ryuko. I only needed a small amount of your blood to make myself heard."

_My blood?_ Ryuko's mind raced, trying to connect various pieces that didn't fit together as logic would dictate. "Um… this is a really stupid question, but are you the sailor uniform I just put on?"

"You are correct." As if to illustrate the point, part of the scarf moved in a manner that resembled an eye blinking. "I am one of the few Kamui in existence at the moment, and if my creator is successful in his mission, the final one to be stitched."

Ryuko barely heard anything after the affirmation that she was correct. All sound seemed to fade out of the room; her only thoughts were pure rage at her father and the disturbing knowledge that a living being was pressed against parts of her that were otherwise only covered by thin undergarments.

Slowly and unsteadily, she turned to Isshin and fixed him with a pointed glare. "Why… am I wearing… something that can _speak_?"

"Well, I can't hear him, so I hope he isn't making any inappropriate advances toward you. Otherwise, you'll be wearing him for as long as it takes to accomplish our goals." Isshin's eyes were unfocused, appropriately uncomfortable with seeing her body exposed. "And since that's the case, you should get to know him. Start with a name."

Ryuko was baffled. "You expect me to wear this THING?!"

"Your father is right, Ryuko." The uniform ruffled once again, making Ryuko whine under her breath. "I was created solely for the purpose of being worn by you. I understand how alarming I might seem, but we will be working closely for quite a long time. We may as well make it as pleasant a time as possible."

After several moments, Ryuko sighed, allowed her initial wave of anger to pass and leave only lingering confusion in its wake. "There's probably no point to fighting someone I'm wearing, so _for now_, I'll keep you on. What was that about a name, then?"

"I never gave him a name, even though he's a sapient organism." Isshin made eye contact with the uniform's scarf eye, though he still addressed Ryuko. "I wanted to leave it up to you, to create an early connection between the two of you."

Though she was starting to develop a headache from the events of the past few minutes, Ryuko thought for a moment. "You drink blood, right, uniform-thing?"

The uniform 'nodded' by puffing its – or rather, his – collar up and down.

"Well, then," Ryuko concluded, "I'll call you Senketsu. Fresh blood."

* * *

><p>Nui Harime took a small step forward, instantly traveling a meter with the action. She was used to small inconsistencies with the laws of physics by now, as they almost solely defined her life.<p>

Even so, what had happened in that cute girl's house had caught her off guard, and she struggled to explain it even as she pursued said girl and her brother.

She nonchalantly lifted her head to look up at where they had run off to. At least, she did it nonchalantly from an outside perspective. Inside, she was fuming – which she actually found rather amusing. She loved surprises, and anything that could shake her like that counted as a surprise. Mama had long ago taught her some French phrase to that effect, but the events of the past few minutes were doing a number on her memory.

The building Nui was steadily approaching rested at the peak of the city, and it was a personal favorite of Mama's. Honnouji Academy, it was apparently called. It was where her big sister worked, and seeing her always put a smile on both of their faces. She imagined Satsuki smiling, at least. The poor girl never smiled, which Nui couldn't wrap her head around at all. Mama always gave Satsuki the utmost affection whenever she'd come to stay with them.

Nui sighed, a noise imperceptible to everyone around, which was further masked by her unflinching smile. She hoped she wouldn't have to kill Satsuki to get to wherever Soichiro was hiding. If her deduction of Soichiro's hideout had been correct – which she knew it was, so there was no point in questioning it – and the fleeing siblings were his accomplices, then their presence at Honnouji Academy would indicate that they considered it a safe place, which in turn indicated one of two things.

The first possibility was that Soichiro had managed to set up another of his rebel pockets in the school. If that were the case, then her tape measure blade was getting a bit too blunt for mass combat. She could easily rip them apart unarmed, but that always led to at least a half hour of her hunched over Mama's bathroom sink, picking meat out from under her gorgeous nails.

The second possibility was that Satsuki would protect the siblings, and that meant that she was against REVOCS, and against Mama by extension. She didn't relish the idea of ripping her big sister's head from her neck and presenting it to Mama after a hard day's work, but if that had to be done, then it would. She loved Mama too much to protest anything that would help her.

Nui abruptly stopped thinking heavily about the matter. It made her head hurt.

In her time reflecting on the situation, she'd strolled through Honnouji Academy's titanic outer entrance and was now making her way across the athletic fields. Numerous students paused their activities to look at her, and her cheeks started to flush pink from the attention. Without breaking her unearthly stride, she turned to blow kisses at several of her admirers. She knew without looking back that they would either be falling head-over-heels in love with her or skittering away like fragile little crabs. Those tended to be the most common reactions.

Once more, her brief mental pit stop took her through the front doors of Honnouji Academy's central tower. Inside, she didn't even have to try to pick it up – the scent that had taken her to that filthy house was so strong, her body instinctively guided her toward it like a shark to a school of minnows.

She didn't much like sharks. She allowed her mind to wander to other, more flattering animal-related analogies. Since the room the siblings had fled into was a single step away, it wasn't extremely important to keep focused.

* * *

><p>- Fifteen Minutes Earlier -<p>

The door to Mr. Mikisugi's classroom groaned under immense stress as it was flung open, and Mako and her brother hurled themselves inside. Mako was quick to slam the door shut, lock it, and jam a chair under the knob. She accomplished these things so quickly, in fact, that her brother had barely impacted the ground when she was finished.

Neither sibling spoke for what felt like an eon. Mako hadn't paid enough attention in this class to fully comprehend the length of an eon, but she'd heard people use it when they meant that something took a long time to happen, so she felt it a good choice. Then she patted herself on the head for expanding her vocabulary, before returning to crisis mode again.

The silence was eventually broken by Mataro's violent coughing fit. The long gash across his chest was worse than it had looked before, although Mako guessed that sprinting uphill from the base of the mountain to the peak hadn't done much for his system's wellbeing. She leapt into action immediately, though it took almost a minute before she was aware of what action she meant to take.

As she'd seen in the few movies she'd been able to watch in her lifetime, Mako tore a section from her skirt – hoping that Lady Satsuki would understand why she was damaging a school uniform – and pressed it over the wound, where it soaked from blue to blackish-red within moments. She ripped off another fabric patch and pressed it over the previous one, hoping that it would buy her enough time to find a first aid kit.

Her eyes flashed around the room, but her mind wasn't making it easy for her. She was used to the presence of Mr. Mikisugi and the other students, and her mind had adapted the room's layout to include them. Being in the class outside of school hours was like navigating around her living room with all of the scant furniture replaced.

Finally, after rifling through several cabinets, she was confronted with the instantly recognizable symbol. Thinking no further than the next half second, she practically ripped the box's lid off and grabbed a roll of bandages from within. Applying them to Mataro was easy, considering all of the cuts and scrapes he'd sustained in the past. This was just a much larger and more dangerous cut than either of them were used to.

But she knew that bandages weren't enough. Her brother needed something to wash out the wound, and something to keep any infections out. He needed painkillers. He needed more blood. The kit probably had some of that, but the bottles all had big words on them that she couldn't tell apart. Her father was a licensed doctor, if one really squinted at his medical license, and he would have known exactly what to do if he'd been here.

_If he'd been here…_

She shook away the tears that would surely bubble up eventually. Mataro's life was at stake, and as the older sister, she would continue to do everything in her power to make sure that nothing horrible happened. Her parents could wait.

Underneath Mako's shivering hands, Mataro shifted and grunted. "How… How did you do that…?"

She held up the bandage roll for him to see. "I found this!"

"No…" Mataro shook his head, despite the visibly agonizing pain it was causing him. "At the house. You got me away from that girl. I saw you both moving so fast…" He stopped talking, again wracked with coughing.

Mako thought about it, and came up without a solid answer. "I was just really, really scared. When people get scared, they can move faster than normal. Dad told me about it while a blood donor was trying to run away." She smiled fondly at the memory, even though it caused her heart to ache uncontrollably.

Something else bit at her thoughts just then, so while she propped Mataro up in what she assumed was a safer position, she started questioning him. "What happened at the house? Where'd that girl come from?"

Mataro bit his lip and scrunched his face up. "Um… I was getting the party ready with Mom and Dad, and then someone knocked on the door. Mom thought it was you, so she went to answer it, but it was… her." He paused, hacking up a droplet of blood and wheezing to catch his breath before he was able to continue. "She asked Mom where some guy was, but Mom didn't know, and the girl took out a tape measure and…"

Mako's desire to stifle her tears was almost cut short when Mataro started to cry, but just as she was about to comfort him, he continued on uninhibited. "Dad didn't get what was going on until she was right up next to him, and then she must've thought he wouldn't be any help, because I heard the noise when I ran into the bedroom. And she just kept humming, like she really was an innocent little girl…"

Mako shushed him with a tender hug, having heard enough. She could fill in the blanks from there.

If she got the chance.

The door groaned again and crashed off its hinges, sending the chair flying through the window. An enormous figure loomed into the room, and Mako's initial thankfulness that it wasn't that same girl was cut short when she realized who it _was_.

"NO STUDENTS ARE ALLOWED WITHIN THE CLASSROOMS OUTSIDE OF CLASS HOURS WITHOUT THE PRESENCE OF A STAFF MEMBER!" Ira Gamagoori bellowed, rattling the foundations of the building. "MAKO MANKANSHOKU, YOU WILL BE SUMMARILY-"

The instant his eyes fell upon Mataro, everything about Gamagoori changed. The blood vessels withdrew from his eyes, while his brows lifted from an expression of seething rage to one of professional concern. His teeth remained gritted together, but he firmly sealed his lips over them. Mako could have also sworn that his entire body dramatically reduced in size, but even she knew that that was insane.

"What happened here?" Gamagoori asked in a voice that sounded genuinely worried.

Mako didn't hesitate to leap up and wrap her arms around Gamagoori's redwood stump of a neck. "Gamagoori-senpai!" She screamed in the most pathetic, pitiful tone she could muster. "Someone's chasing me and my brother! She's gonna kill us if she catches us! She already killed my Mom and Dad!"

Nodding coolly, Gamagoori shook her off and cracked his knuckles, producing a sound Mako compared to a door slamming shut on a human skull. "As the Honnouji Academy Chief of Security and Disciplinary Committee Chairman, it is my sworn responsibility to protect any students under threat of harm on or off of the campus. After I have dealt swift justice to your attacker, I will notify the medical staff. Your brother is a student here, right?"

"Enrolled." Mataro coughed and wheezed far below Gamagoori's titanic frame. "I just never showed up."

Gamagoori's eye twitched with annoyance, but he said nothing about Mataro's truancy. "His personal information will still be in our computers, so he will be transferred to our hospital ward without delay. Rest easy, Mankanshokus."

With that period of uncharacteristic kindness out of the way, Gamagoori stepped back into the hall. Mako peered out, curious about how the little girl would stand up to the gigantic Student Council member – and froze in shock.

The girl was already in the hall, flashing from side to side with each step like the one scene Mako remembered from _Ju-On_. She still wore an ear-to-ear smile, and she was still splattered with bloodstains from her golden hair to her heels. Upon sighting Mako, the girl flash-stepped right past the startled Gamagoori, bringing her tape measure to bear once again.

Hatred boiled up in Gamagoori's eyes. Barely moving from his position, he pivoted on his heels and gripped the girl's head in one massive fist, raising her up so that the two of them were at eye level. "WHO ARE YOU TO MARCH ONTO THE GROUNDS OF HONNOUJI ACADEMY AND THREATEN THESE INNOCENTS?!"

The girl sharply cocked her head, causing her body to snap up in Gamagoori's grip. "Who are you to stand in the path of the Grand Couturier when she has important business?" She giggled childishly and swiped her arm out in multiple directions, extending only her pinky finger in lieu of her actual weapon.

For exactly one second, nobody moved, and Mako foolishly thought that the girl had done something pointless.

Then, with slowness almost as sickening to watch as it surely was to feel, the tips of Gamagoori's thumb and index finger slid from their correct positions and fell into a bloody puddle on the floor. Gamagoori's eyes bulged, and he was forced to let the girl drop, but he never screamed.

The girl landed on her feet, continuing to move forward as if nothing had interrupted her. Mako retreated into the classroom, pulling Mataro along as quickly as she could, but the girl had the speed advantage. They all knew it, and she was clearly enjoying herself by slowing down just as she was about to reach them.

Just then, Gamagoori shoved one of his arms through the doorway and grabbed the girl around the arm. He began to pull, but the girl barely budged. In fact, she _yawned_, covering her mouth with her free arm.

"This is getting boring!" The girl followed up this exclamation with a chilling smile directed at Mako. "I'm really more interested in you and Soichiro than I am in a thug with a shoddily stitched uniform!"

Seconds later, the girl effortlessly wrenched her arm forward. All of the fingers Gamagoori had wrapped around her arm bent and snapped, but still he refused to let up on the assault. Already anticipating this, the girl spun around and jabbed Gamagoori in the chest with her thumb, sending him flying into the wall before he could follow up with any further attacks.

The girl's smile widened as she stepped over to where Mataro was laying. Lowering her tape measure to his neck, she addressed Mako as innocently as ever. "I'll ask you one more time: where is Soichiro Kiryuin, and what is he up to? It's an easy question! Just answer it, and I'll let you both go!"

Mako immediately noticed that the girl was crossing her fingers behind her back. She wasn't sure what it was, but the fact that the girl felt the need to actually cross her fingers while she lied terrified her.

A shadow once more fell over the classroom as someone entered the doorway, and Mako assumed that it was Gamagoori, back up for yet another attack.

Instead, a lithe figure flashed through the air, landing just behind the girl and curving a black katana around her neck. "Nui Harime," the figure asked in a firm voice, "I demand to know what you are doing in my school."

Mako's heart skipped a beat, and then two. She would have fainted if not for the shock of the situation taking over.

Satsuki Kiryuin – THE Lady Satsuki whom Mako worshipped as much as she feared – had come to her rescue.

"Aww, Satsuki, I'm not doing anything bad!" The girl, whom Mako now identified as Nui, leaned forward and rubbed her neck up against the blade. A trickle of blood flowed out, though she didn't seem to be bothered. "I was just looking for your papa, and I followed my instincts to this girl and her brother. I'm only doing what Mama told me to."

If the mention of Satsuki's father had any effect on her, it was invisible. "Regardless, you have no business on the grounds of Honnouji Academy, much less inside it. If you refuse to leave, I and my Elite Four will have no qualms about killing you."

For some reason, that sent Nui into a cackling fit. She backed away from the blade, and the flesh of her neck seemed to partially close up around the injury. Then, as suddenly as the laughter had started, it stopped and left Nui's face with a completely blank smile. "Okay, if you're gonna be like that, I'll leave! Mama's going to know that you got in the way, though!"

With a final glance back at Mako, Nui vanished into thin air.

Satsuki took one look at Mako and Mataro, and immediately went into her familiar commanding tone. "Gamagoori! See to this boy!"

"Yes, Lady Satsuki!" Gamagoori marched in, appearing no worse for wear other than his injured hands, and scooped Mataro into his arms before carrying him away. Mako breathed a sigh of relief, which caught in her throat when Satsuki turned and made eye contact with her.

Mako didn't hesitate to throw herself to the floor in front of Satsuki and bow as low as she could. "Thank you so much, Lady Satsuki! You saved our lives! I'm in your debt! I know I was already in your debt because you're so fantastic and you let me take classes at this school even though I'm not as smart as the other kids, but you…" She had to pause to catch her breath, which she chalked up to exhaustion. Normally, she could speak for hours on end without interruptions.

Satsuki kindly waited for a break in Mako's panting before addressing her. "You are Mako Mankanshoku, yes? I could hear Ira shouting your name even in my office, which is what drew me here in time to stop Ms. Harime from disemboweling you. Why was she in pursuit of you, Mankanshoku?"

Tears flooded Mako's eyes, and she couldn't wipe them away to honor Satsuki's presence no matter how hard she tried. "She… she showed up at my house and… killed my Mom and Dad…"

A grim expression formed on Satsuki's face, though it wasn't a marked change from her normal expression. "Then you have nowhere else to go. How old are you, Mankanshoku?"

"Six…" Mako paused to let out a particularly heavy sob. "Sixteen, Lady Satsuki. Today was my birthday."

For nearly thirty seconds, Satsuki said nothing. Then, suddenly, she turned and slowly began to walk away. "I do not normally make arrangements like this, but since Nui is involved, I have no other choice. After your brother has recovered, I will allow you both to live on the campus until the threat to your safety passes. You are more than old enough to live on your own, but as you are visibly a No-Star, I know that you have no other safe place of shelter than Honnouji Academy.

"You will be fully expected to make preparations for your exit, of course. Whatever money your parents possessed, I will have funneled to you. I cannot harbor you any longer than it takes for Nui to lose interest in you – however it is that she gained it in the first place."

The moment Satsuki disappeared into the hallway, Mako was so caught up in the rush of information that all of her muscles gave out. She finally fell into unconsciousness, but it was thankfully with a smile on her face.


	3. Preparations

A/N: Multiple trigger warnings for incest, rape/molestation, and abuse of all sorts from here on out, because Ragyo Kiryuin's here now. If you're a KLK fan, and I don't see why you wouldn't be, you know how it goes with her. I might even go a bit further with her antics than the show did ('cause I'm evil), so read at your own risk.

Also, apologies for the long wait between chapters! For those who don't know, I divide my writing time between this site and DeviantART (username KleinerKiller), so I have a lot of ground to cover in what little free time I have.

_Also_, additional apologies if this chapter feels a little jumpy! There're a couple of perspectives to cover and a lot of setup to convey, and my general aversion to filler means that the individual segments are shorter than previous ones. If it bothers you, I promise that it will pick up once the plot properly starts going places. And now, on to the story!

* * *

><p>The bath filled the room with steamy warmth, and Nui couldn't help but smile. This was her favorite room in the entire mansion. No matter how badly a day went – and it was rare that a day went entirely well, considering the frequency with which she chipped her nails inside some REVOCS protester's innards – a steaming hot bath with Mama always cheered her up.<p>

Today, Nui had decided, was a damned terrible day.

What a terrible sister Satsuki was being. Why should she have cared if a random little girl got dismembered in Mama's name? Those things happened, and it wasn't any more abnormal than the sun rising every day. The fact that she cared triggered all of Nui's finely tuned alarm bells for potential traitors. She would have to bring that up with Mama in a few minutes, once they'd both enjoyed themselves, but she would have to use the time to figure out how best to tell her. And that was a shame, because she preferred to completely let her mind go during these bonding moments.

She knelt down and dipped her finger in the water, finding it to be of a satisfactory temperature. It wouldn't sear her skin off (not that that would be a serious issue), but it wasn't cool enough that anyone would be spreading rumors about her being weak to high temperatures. Nui Harime was the true progeny of Ragyo Kiryuin, spawned from the unknowable depths of the deific Original Life Fiber, and she-

Her head hurt again.

Giggling to keep the ache away, Nui leaned back and tore herself out of her dress. The fabric crumpled to the tile floor in a suddenly unraveling pool of Life Fibers, which she would promptly stitch together again once she was clean and pure. She allowed her bare skin to adjust to the humidity for a split second, then dove into the welcoming pool that stretched out before her.

She speared through the surface in a classic swan dive, mentally filling in the admiring crowd and clapping judges. Her hands slid over slick tiles for a single moment, but the absence didn't dissuade her.

And suddenly, in the span of less than a blink, there was Mama, resting below her as if she'd always been there. Her rainbow-striped hair was flowing loosely, draping itself over her sensuous curves in a way that nobody other than Mama could pull off underwater. Nui blushed in the presence of her gorgeous body, feeling unshakeable shame at her own inability to be so beautiful. The shame always came, but Mama always swept it away with what happened next.

Mama rushed up at her, and they burst through the surface together in a flurry of pale skin and loving moans. Mama growled hungrily as she straddled Nui, who realized without caring that the water was much shallower than her moments beneath the surface logically indicated. She was even less bothered by standard breaks in physics when Mama was with her.

"Mmm… Nui…" Mama's deep, sultry voice played in Nui's ears like a private symphony. "I've been waiting so long for you to come back. Tell me… What has Soichiro been up to since he so rudely left us?"

Nui wasn't prepared for the question so soon into the encounter, and she found that she couldn't meet Mama's gaze to deliver an answer. Lying would be even worse than not saying anything, because Mama had always told her growing up that she had a natural lie detector in her brain.

Mama slowly moved her hands up and gripped Nui by the shoulders. "Is he dead, Nui? Did you take my husband's life?"

Against her better judgment, Nui shook her head.

In an instant, the atmosphere of the room changed. Mama's lips curled into a vicious snarl as her hands slipped around Nui's neck, and Nui was helpless to resist as she was lifted out of the water and tossed across the room. Her head impacted the edge of the bath, spilling a small quantity of blood into the crystal clear water and sending bolts of pain radiating through her skull. She collapsed under the surface, which would have been a serious problem if she had any need to truly breathe, but only stayed there for a fraction of a second before Mama rushed back and pulled her up by the throat again.

"Why… did… you… not…" Mama's words came in bursts between ferocious exhales. "Do… as… I… requested? Are you sympathizing with him? Is that it? Do you miss your father more than you love your mother?!"

Nui allowed herself to fall limp, but she made sure that the smile remained frozen on her face. "You know what happened, Ma… Lady Ragyo. I went to the zone where the Life Fiber presence was strongest, and searched out the house your spies saw Soichiro entering and exiting. I… had no other part in it than that." She paused to giggle, forcing a small chunk of coagulated blood and Life Fibers out of her throat. "But I'm so sorry for not finding anything about him. If I'd found him, I would have gutted him like a dog."

Ragyo – _Mama _– shook her head and set Nui down on the dry edge of the bath. "What exactly _did _you find? I know it couldn't have just been an empty house. I wouldn't raise any of my daughters to abandon such an important task because there was nothing there… especially not you."

"I found a family who were blatantly lying, which I didn't like, so I got most of them out of the way. Then their daughter showed up, and…" Nui gulped in spite of herself. "She acted like she was as fast as me, and got her brother up to Satsuki's school before I could do anything to either of them. When I found them, Satsuki threatened me for a really stupid reason, so I left."

"Satsuki threatened you?" Ragyo was raising her voice, which never meant nice things for anyone in the vicinity. "Your sister stood in the way of you gathering any more information from this girl?"

Nui nodded cheerfully, splashing some blood on Ragyo's cheek, which was immediately licked clean. She hoped she could at least get Satsuki in trouble. When she was in trouble, Ragyo and her would tie her down for her baths, which was always entertaining. She deserved it for being such a bitch.

Could she call her sister that?

Yes, she decided, before her head started to sting again. Satsuki was a petulant little bitch standing in the way of her mother's greatness, and she would hopefully suffer for it.

As quickly as it had changed for the worse, the mood settled back to warm, welcoming intimacy. Mama, whom she was once again fine referring to as such, smiled and gently pulled Nui back into the water. "All right, then. I'll have to have a talk with her whenever she next decides to spend the night with us. And we'll have to look into that girl together, won't we?"

Nui's smile was genuine this time. "I love you, Mama."

And no matter what, she did.

* * *

><p>"Before you begin, breathe calmly. Let your heart steady. You need to make sure that your blood flow is perfectly regular before you truly feed me for the first time."<p>

Ryuko took Senketsu's words to heart and slowed her breathing, which was until that point quite rapid. The only thing her father had told her before allowing her to "transform" in private was that she could expect immense power, which she would be expected to use in some kind of oncoming fight. She had no idea what to expect from this transformation, or how she would possibly be able to fight with a needle constantly jabbing her in the wrist. And still her father had yet to explain what exactly he was planning with all of this convoluted bullshit.

"Is that good enough, Senketsu?" Ryuko stretched her arms in front of her, preparing for whatever she was about to endure. "I don't think I can get any less stressed out than I am now."

Senketsu ruffled his collar up and down, which she'd come to understand as nodding. There wasn't much point in prolonging the wait, so Ryuko did as her father had instructed and slid the pin across her new crimson glove. The built-in syringe activated and slid into her wrist, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying in pain – she didn't want to look like a coward in front of someone she would be _wearing _for a good chunk of the foreseeable future.

Again came the strange sensation she'd felt earlier: that of organic warmth seeping through Senketsu's fabric. This time, however, it felt remarkably different. The cloth heated up and subtly vibrated, stretching tighter over her skin with each passing second. Her skirt was shortening, and the gap between it and her skirt was widening. These changes came slowly, and Ryuko barely noticed them at first.

As Senketsu started to change, she realized with a slightly light-headed feeling that she was as well. She barely felt the wound in her wrist, or the needle that would surely be scraping around in her vein as she moved. Instead, from the opening spread a sensation she could never hope to describe in full, other than that it made her feel strong enough to bench-press a car. She clenched her uncovered hand into a trembling fist, and watched for a moment as a blood vessel in her palm burst from the unexpected pressure.

Her attention was ripped away from the pain she barely felt when the clothing around her chest shrunk dramatically. Her blouse pulled tight and started to take on a leathery, even metallic texture, which she considered vaguely uncomfortable before that sensation also faded away. She clenched her teeth as the same thing happened to her skirt – and, much to her shock and indignation, her panties. If she'd felt like she was being groped when Senketsu had first come to life, this was a horrible escalation.

For an instant, she could swear that she saw an orb of fabric envelope her, closing on a gigantic maw lined with teeth that shuttered her in darkness. A cluster of eyes blinked rapidly at her through the shadow, and she instinctively clenched her fists and arched back as a pulse of energy flowed through her body. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she convinced herself that she must have been hallucinating.

When vision returned to her and the sensory overload subsided, Ryuko immediately bent down on all fours and vomited on the metal floor. Despite this, she felt far from ill. In fact, she felt better than she could ever recall feeling in her life. Her blood was pumping, her adrenaline was flowing, and her mind was operating twice as quickly as normally. Her senses were entirely clear, freed of all distractions.

Panting, she wiped her mouth clean on her arm, which she saw to now be covered by black and red fabric that extended from her shoulder to another, thinner glove. A quick glance confirmed that the same was true for the other arm. As quickly as she could, she stood up and looked down to examine herself in full.

Her feelings of indescribable strength and purity almost evaporated, to be replaced by disgust and disbelief.

She hadn't thought it possible, but she was now even more exposed. Senketsu's blouse portion had formed into a strange armored breastplate, with the eye on his scarf fused into it and angling sharply upward. While she admitted that this looked incredibly cool, it also left everything from the space immediately below her nipples (which were covered by thin bits of an indeterminate substance barely bigger than pennies) to her low waistline fully visible. The only things in the way of coverage were two blood-red straps connecting the breastplate and what little remained of her skirt – which was opened up in the front, showcasing some kind of black thong that would be incredibly uncomfortable if not for her newly found power.

_What. The. FUCK. DAD._

"Are you comfortable, Ryuko?" Senketsu's voice almost fell hollow on her ears, as she was distracted between her tremendous inner sensations and her enraged outer ones. "Isshin informed me that until we are fully synchronized, transforming could be strenuous for you. Your vitals seem normal, but I can tell from your body language that something is troubling you."

Ryuko's response came through teeth gritted so tightly that they threatened to shatter. "Two questions, Senketsu."

"Ask away."

"One…" She flexed her fingers out in front of her, trying to calm down. "Why am I feeling like I am now?"

For some reason, despite lacking lungs or a throat, Senketsu coughed like a professor about to begin a lecture. "A constant flow of your blood interfusing with my bodily constitution enabled us to, in a sense, combine our power. I am composed purely of Life Fibers, which I trust that your father will explain about in further detail, so your body has been overcome with power nearly rivaling that of a demigod."

"Okay, two…"

"Allow me to take a guess." Senketsu cut her off before she could even state her question. "You want to know why so much of your body is exposed now."

Ryuko's breath caught in her throat, both in shock and embarrassment. "Well, yeah. What, can you read my mind now that we're like this?"

To her surprise, Senketsu actually let out a low grumble of laughter. "Not quite yet, Ryuko. I could tell by the fact that your face has been flushed pink since the transformation ended."

Reaching up to her cheeks, Ryuko indeed felt slight heat, and the feeling slowly returning to her face let her know that she was blushing intensely. She hadn't noticed, but now it was all that she could focus on. She was about to walk out in front of her father while wearing an outfit suited only to the most eager participant in the most depraved, tentacle-filled hentai manga she could imagine. It was ridiculous and more than a bit shameful.

But in the span of less than half an hour, she'd put on a living sailor uniform and fed it her blood to transform into some sort of supremely powerful fighter. What point was there in backing away now?

* * *

><p>When Ryuko stepped back into the main laboratory, Isshin's first instinctive response was to clutch his heart until it settled down. Sure, Senketsu's transformed phase had a reason to be skimpy, as Ryuko would hopefully discover on her own over the next few months of training. Sure, he'd sketched the design on a rough model of her to make sure that all of the more intricate bits lined up correctly. That didn't change the fact that he was a father watching his teenaged daughter parade around in glorified BDSM gear.<p>

His second instinctive response was to yelp with joy and pump his fist into the air like a much younger man than he was, for the sheer joy of the fact that everything had worked. He could virtually feel the strength – both physical and potential – radiating from every inch of Ryuko's body. This first match might be a narrow loss; perhaps even a draw of she learned the basic techniques quickly enough.

And then he noticed her hair, and both his shock and his hope were replaced with wide-eyed curiosity.

He didn't know if she had realized it yet, but her previously smooth locks had fanned out slightly, and possibly a dozen Life Fiber clusters had joined the one previously masquerading as a stripe of dye. If the first had surprised him, this development nearly sent him into genuine cardiac arrest from sheer elation.

_Ragyo, you have no idea what kind of potential you left for dead._

"So, Dad." Ryuko fixed him with a bemused glare and spread her arms out, showcasing what she must have felt to be a pointlessly explicit uniform. "Care to explain anything now? I'm getting more and more curious by the minute."

Isshin shook himself out of his observations and cracked his knuckles, pointedly letting the noise echo into the shadowy reaches of the room before answering his daughter. "I will explain as much as I possibly can, but all must come in due time. You have to get accustomed to fighting while in this transformed state, and eventually while wielding the Rending Scissors."

"Rending what-?"

If Ryuko was planning to ask a more in-depth question, the sudden blow to her back knocked all of her curiosity away. It wouldn't be safe for him to stay in the room once this fight kicked up, so Isshin turned and left for the security room. A camera feed would rob the fight of its scale and impact, but at least he wouldn't end up with all of the bones in his body reduced to pulp.

* * *

><p><em>I am not strong.<em>

Mataro Mankanshoku stretched his quivering hand out before him. Despite the fact that his only wound was to the chest, the Honnouji Academy medical staff had seen fit to cover his limbs and extremities with bandages as well.

_They know I'm the weakest person in the building. One wrong move and everything else on me will just melt._

He curled the hand into a fist and slammed it down on the table next to him, ignoring the bolt of pain that shot all the way to his ribs. The lone nurse in the room, a wispy fifteen-year-old Mataro didn't even have the presence of mind to hit on, glanced his way in feigned concern before returning to the musty Rubik's Cube she was entertaining herself with. She didn't care about him.

_Dad wouldn't, either. He'd be ashamed._

Mataro had pumped himself up as the toughest kid in the entire No-Star district. He'd taken rough fighting lessons from psychotic hobos in back alleys, then tested them out for real on people roaming around at night. His few friends had been so impressed that they'd helped rally a sizable gang around him, and everyone in the district knew about them, whether as genuine threats or persistent nuisances.

Yet the minute the opportunity arose where he could put his abilities to good use, the day had ended with his parents and dog dead, his sister traumatized, and a giant cut across his stomach leaving him bedridden. He'd fumbled in a real crisis, and lives were ruined because of it.

The logical portion of his brain flashed back to Gamagoori's engagement with the twisted girl, and how it had remained one-sided in her favor before Lady Satsuki had made her unexpected appearance. That girl was on an entirely different level than anyone in Honnouji Academy, possibly anyone in the whole world. He shouldn't have expected himself to take her – _it_ – on in a fair fight. The only one who had come close to that was his sister, and even then, the girl hadn't really been injured in any visible way.

That logical portion was swiftly stamped into a puddle.

He and Mako would have to leave Honnouji Academy eventually. Satsuki had come by personally to make sure that he knew that. What would happen if that girl came back when they were away from Satsuki, away from her Elite Four and her assortment of Goku Uniforms? Coroners would look at their bodies in the aftermath and joke about ants trying to fight shoes. Barring another freak burst of luck, they would both be powerless.

_I am not strong._

Unless he did something in the mean time to change that.

Here he was, complaining about being holed up in a place where the strongest karate champion on Earth could get his ass handed to him by most of the student body. He was complaining about no longer having access to drug-addled tutors, stolen prop weaponry, and undertrained pre-teens in a place where wearing the right uniform made you a walking tank.

Mataro Mankanshoku was a boy who'd learned to take advantage of things, people, and everything in between. He had a couple of months here, maybe a year if he could extort the right people. That time would _not _be spent playing with friends, or perving on older women, or lounging around on a hospital bed watching someone play with a Rubik's Cube.

If that girl ever caught up to them again, she would find that the boy she'd almost disemboweled was no longer a weakling with a ponytail and a collection of ill-fitting shirts.

_I am not strong… yet._

* * *

><p>"Let me tell you two useful pieces of information."<p>

Ryuko could feel a bruise already forming across her back, but she didn't acknowledge the pain as she rolled around to face her attacker. Through the natural shadows and the blur of her vision, she could faintly make out a shock of bright red hair, much like her own.

"One: when someone gives a clear signal to begin an attack, even someone you know as your ally, you must always take notice."

She struggled to her feet, which was surprisingly easy considering the length of her heels, and focused through the dim light. Her assailant was a tanned man more than a head taller than her, with biceps thicker than her whitening fists and some kind of black baton in one hand. The red hair she'd glimpsed was a mohawk dyed the exact color of a cherry, which Ryuko strangely thought was sort of awesome.

"Two: you're wearing something that I hate with every fiber of my being, and if not for your father's commands, I would have no trouble burying you both. Do not expect me to go easy on you because it's your first fight, Ryuko Matoi."

"Go easy on me?" Ryuko smirked confidently, though she was horribly aware that her blushing would diminish the effect. "Buddy, I feel like-"

She got no further, as the man's combat boot collided with her forehead, splitting a minor wound open on her scalp and sending her sliding back several feet. Only through sheer force of will did she keep from tumbling over and losing what little dignity she preserved.

The man crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, though his stony expression betrayed more agitation than amusement. "Even with the power of the second known Kamui in existence, you cannot stave off an attack long enough to finish a sentence? I would pity you if I weren't shocked that someone as capable as Isshin spawned you."

Ryuko drowned out his irritating lecture and focused all of her energy on Senketsu. She had a feeling that he would be the key in this fight. She already had a rough plan of attack for the next strike, and she hoped she could trust Senketsu to interpret her body language for the right move.

The next attack came in the form of the baton swinging toward her abdomen – a classic gut attack that she'd suffered many times from opponents half of his man's size. She went with what she knew and prepared to take the brunt of it, readying her spine to roll with the impact and segue into her counterattack.

The baton struck her… and stopped dead as her body refused to move an inch.

Ryuko was so dumbstruck that she forgot the counter altogether, and the man was swift to recover with a punch from his free hand. She automatically rolled back on the floor so that she regained her footing quickly – another technique she'd taught herself over the years.

_So that's what I can do now. Among other things, hopefully._

"Senketsu," Ryuko whispered. "Do that thing you just did again. I have a plan this time."

Senketsu nodded hesitantly. "This is your first time wearing me in combat, Ryuko. You should be careful not to overdraw from your blood supply. I imagine it would be embarrassing to pass out without first beating your opponent."

While Senketsu was warning her, the man – whom she'd started to mentally identify as "Mohawk Man" – jabbed for her neck with his baton. The strike connected, and though Ryuko felt a quiver in her trachea, the same effect took hold and serious damage was nonexistent. This time, Mohawk Man seemed to realize that she would be ready for a counterattack, and quickly tossed his weapon over to this other hand before winding up a bare-knuckle punch.

It never connected. She'd taken the fact that her counterattack would be anticipated into account, and while she twisted around from the initial strike, she caught his hand in midair and used his greater center of balance to flip herself up and over. Her heel connected with Mohawk Man's temple, and though he started to whip his head to the side, blood was still drawn. Without wasting a second, Ryuko kicked off from his face and flipped backward, putting some distance between them to prepare for her next move.

It took her a couple of moments to realize that her kick had propelled her almost across the room, and she was once again unprepared for her raw power when her feet collided with the rear wall. With more thought and preparation, she might have been able to kick off the wall and shoot forward for another strike, but at the moment she flopped limply onto her front and had to recover quickly.

She was learning a lot about this "Kamui", and she was starting to see that she was barely scraping the surface of her potential with Senketsu. In time, she could picture herself ricocheting around fights like a scantily clad pinball of ass kicking. Right now, it would take all of her effort and more to accomplish what she imagined her father wanted her to do.

Mohawk Man looked like he was about to smirk, but he instantly regained his composure and charged forward to meet her. She managed to catch his first strike with the baton, but he followed it up with a vicious kick that caught her in the midsection. Rather than a proper counterattack, she waited for some air to reenter her lungs before leaping into the air again. Prepared now, she landed directly behind Mohawk Man and lashed out with an open-palmed strike to his back.

Before it could connect, Ryuko suddenly felt her body run cold. The power seemed to flush itself away, and she collapsed to one knee as the pain of her injures caught up to her. Mohawk Man slowly turned around, but rather than capitalize and attack with everything he had, he shook his head and waved a strange gesture into the air.

A few moments later, Isshin reappeared through the entrance, glowing with visible elation. Ryuko felt Senketsu transitioning back to his more modest base form as her father rushed up to embrace her. "Ryuko, that was wonderful! You're catching on even quicker than expected, and without any instruction from either of us!" He turned to meet Mohawk Man's gaze, seemingly unperturbed by the aura of hostility the huge man was emitting. "How was it fighting my daughter, Tsumugu?"

There was a moment's pause before Mohawk Man – her father had called him by name, but she preferred her title for him – sighed and crossed his arms. "You were right. She made better use of her Kamui than I anticipated, and there is clear potential for her to grow in power. In several months' worth of training, perhaps a year at least, she may even grow powerful enough to challenge the Honnouji Academy segment of REVOCS. I may not approve of your plan, Dr. Matoi, but I will support it for as long as necessary."

Isshin turned back to Ryuko, a nearly comical smile visible through his matted beard. "That's good, that's good. Now, what made you stop the fight when you were about to deliver your rear strike?"

Senketsu coughed after a significant period of silence. "You overdrew from your blood supply, Ryuko. If you recall, I warned you against exactly that several minutes ago." His voice sounded thin; given how Ryuko felt, she assumed their injuries were as shared as their power.

"Senketsu says I used up too much of my blood," she repeated. "I wasn't ready for the fight."

Isshin nodded thoughtfully as he helped Ryuko to her feet. "I expected as much. Well, that can be easily remedied with further training. You did exceptionally well on your first outing, Ryuko, and I hope you know that I am very proud of you."

"Err… thanks, Dad." Ryuko blushed awkwardly, unaccustomed to her father's praise. "Would you mind telling me what's going on now? I'm spent. I just want to learn what you have to tell me, and then I want to flop onto my old bed and dream about not getting my ass kicked by a giant with cool hair."

Mohawk Man raised an eyebrow in what seemed like genuine confusion, but Isshin didn't give him any time to speak. "First, get yourself washed up. If you forgot in your long absence, the shower is three doors down from your bedroom, on the left side of the hall. Once you're ready, I will tell you everything you need to know and introduce you to everyone you need to meet."

_With the exception of revealing your familial ties_, he thought to himself. _If everything goes smoothly, those will not come to light until your mother is rotting in the ground._


End file.
